


It’s A Grey Area (It’s A Bad Idea)

by Anonymous



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Blakecest - Freeform, Daddy Kink, F/M, Masturbation, Peeping, Pregnancy Kink, Pregnant Clarke Griffin, its imagined but it’s very much there, listening in on sex without consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-11-02 06:00:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20645513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Octavia has come to accept that Clarke, her brother’s girlfriend, will be sticking around in their tiny two bedroom apartment for the foreseeable future. Especially since she’s pregnant with her niece or nephew. The only thing that mystifies her is that, despite the obvious evidence of their procreation, she’s literally never heard them having sex. Until she gets home earlier than usual one day, and does. And suddenly she can’t help but piggyback off their pleasure to find some of her own.Aka- Octavia secretly gets herself off listening to Clarke and Bellamy have sex.





	It’s A Grey Area (It’s A Bad Idea)

Octavia had never been a particularly big fan of any of her older brother’s girlfriends. Clarke was no exception to that. But when Clarke moved into their tiny two bedroom apartment after her and Bellamy had been dating for two years, Octavia reluctantly began to accept her, since she obviously wouldn’t be leaving any time soon.

It wasn’t so bad anyway, having her around. By the time Octavia began her last year of high school Clarke had been living with them for a year, and sometimes gave her a ride to class when she was running late. Plus, she was really good at French braids. Way better than her brother, who meant well but always made them too loose. He was too afraid of hurting her.

One thing that always amazed Octavia was that she had never once heard them fucking. No rhythmic bumping of the bed frame against the wall, no muffled moans, not even a peep. Her friends at school sometimes complained about being scarred by overhearing their parents having sex. Octavia performed her disgust as expected but inwardly rolled her eyes at the doubtlessly exaggerated tales. It was a problem she’d never had, and part of her snickered at the thought that maybe Bellamy and Clarke’s sexlife was nonexistent, boring old married couple that they were. Not that they were married, but they might as well have been.

But, they must have been fucking at some point. Because halfway through the fall, Clarke and Bellamy sat her down on the couch while they sat in front of her on the coffee table, and told her she was going to be an aunt.

“Oh, wow.” Octavia took the news in as she stared at the two expecting parents, who beamed at her in their clearly somewhat nervous anticipation of her reaction. “Shit, okay. Was it on purpose?” Never one to beat around the bush, Octavia asked them flat out. What she really wanted to know was if they had decided on this big, life-changing event without her. Since Clarke had moved in, she’d felt a little overly defensive of her place in the house. She didn’t doubt that her brother loved her, and logically she knew Clarke was good for him, but she couldn’t help but be a little jealous that he needed someone other than her to provide a type of love that she couldn’t.

“Uh, not exactly. A happy surprise, let’s say.” Clarke smiled softly with a hand on her still-flat stomach, and Octavia snorted softly, inwardly relieved. “But my job at the gallery is stable, and I really think your brother is so close to getting a full time teaching position.” Bellamy looked at Clarke like she’d hung the damn sun in the sky, and Octavia’s stomach did a little knotty thing, which she did her best to ignore. “He’s the best substitute teacher in the whole town,” Clarke continued, blissfully unaware of Octavia’s conflicting emotions. “Your school would be crazy not to hire him as the new history teacher when Vera retires.”

“Ms. Kane? She is kinda old, yeah.” Octavia huffed out a breath. “But anyway, okay. I’m gonna be an aunt. I guess I can babysit, or whatever.” She glanced over at her big brother, who was smiling at her but somehow also brimming with tears. “But I’m not changing any diapers. So don’t get sappy.”

He laughed and moved to sit beside her on the couch so he could pull her into a hard sideways hug. “I love you so much, O.”

“Love you too, big brother.” She turned herself to make the embrace more comfortable and sunk into her big brother’s arms. “You’re gonna be such a good dad.” She whispered into his chest, as tears of her own began to fall, entirely without her permission. There was no other place but against Bellamy’s large warm body that she allowed herself to feel small and vulnerable. The only place she felt loved without a doubt. Not that she would ever admit that to him, or any of the reasons she felt conflicted at that moment. That was her own fucked up burden to bear.

Just for a moment, with her face still safely hidden in the warm crook of her brother’s shoulder, and with his hand gently stroking her hair like he knew she liked, Octavia wondered if this was what it would be like if… well, she let her mind wander.

“You’re going to be the best aunt in the world, Octavia.” Clarke’s wobbly voice snapped Octavia back to reality, and she reluctantly pulled away from her brother, wiping her cheeks as quickly and discreetly as she could.

“Obviously.” She shoved playfully at her brother. “The kid will need a strong role model, with you two saps as parents.”

“Hey, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Bellamy shoved playfully back with one arm while the other swiped at his own eyes, proving her point.

“Sure you don’t.” Octavia stood and shook off the heaviness of the moment as she came to terms with a new addition to their household. “Anyway, uh, congrats. But I’ve got homework to procrastinate, so, try not to get too many tear stains on the couch.”

After Octavia closed the door to her bedroom, she pressed her ear against the wood to hear what they said after she left.

“I told you it would be okay. She may not be the best at showing it, but she loves you too you know.”

“I know, I do. I love her too.” Octavia rolled her eyes at the sounds of overly emotional sniffles. “We’re gonna be a family.”

“We’re already a family, baby.”

“You’re right. I love you so much.”

Already bored of their sentimentalities and unwilling to listen any longer, Octavia left the door. Instead, her mind wandered to wondering when the hell this child was conceived.

__________________________________________________

The mystery of the complete lack of fucking was solved one weekend afternoon a few months later. Octavia had been taking karate classes once a week since she’d met her instructor, Indra, at a self-defence lesson the school had set up for the girls a few years ago. But that cold winter day was the first that class had been cancelled. Ever.

Octavia didn’t find out until she got to the dojo, and saw the sign taped to the door explaining that all classes were canceled for the week. There wasn’t any explanation, but she didn’t expect one. That wasn’t Indra’s style. She was a woman who didn’t owe anyone anything she didn’t want to give, and Octavia wanted to be just like her when she grew up.

Still, she was disappointed to not have her usual weekly outlet for her frustrations, which she had in increasing amounts as got further into her last year of high school and closer to the uncertainty of what would come next. With a sigh, she turned around and began heading home. What a complete waste of time. It was cold and gross out, so by the time she got back to their shitty apartment building and took the elevator up to their floor she was in a distinctly sour mood. Until-

What the fuck? The sound of banging, loud, rhythmic and abrasive echoed down the hall. Were they trying to kill a fly on the wall? With a goddamn hammer? Puzzled, Octavia approached their apartment and wondered if maybe Bellamy was finally getting around to fixing that one crooked cupboard in the kitch- oh. It clicked.

Oh fuck. They were fucking. Jesus fucking christ they were banging the shit out of each other in there.

With wide eyes and a heart pounding with adrenaline Octavia’s hand hovered at the door. She knew what she should do. What she should do was turn right the fuck around and go kill some time at a cafe, the library, literally anywhere.

But that wasn’t what she did. Instead, despite knowing she was about to cross a threshold she shouldn’t, Octavia slipped her key into the lock and opened the door slowly and quietly, listening hard for any indication that they heard her. There wasn’t any… stutter in the rhythm she was hearing, so she continued into the doorway.

It was all there. The thumping of the bed against the wall, the moans, everything her friends had complained about in tones of disgust and repulsion. But Octavia didn’t feel any of that. She could even hear the obscene clapping of skin against skin, and then-

"Daddy, daddy please!"

Octavia jumped what felt like a foot when she heard Clarke’s voice, nearly dropping her backpack from where it was slung over one shoulder, but caught it on her elbow. Still, the thud of the contents within her bag against each other was deafening to her own ears.

This could be her out. She could make another sound, let them know she was home early, pretend she hadn’t just overheard Clarke’s needy, frankly embarrassing whines. Or she could make a scene, flip out and embarrass them both. Bring it up for years to come to fluster her brother. God, they would be so fucking mortified, it would be incredible.

“Don’t stop.” A heady whisper, heard clear as day thanks to their bedroom door being, apparently, wide open.

"Never, baby, never." Her brother's deep voice, strained but still in control, carried over. "Such a good girl." A rush of tingling excitement hit her lower abdomen, entirely oblivious to any voice of reason in the back of her mind that rebelled against the wrongness of what she wanted.

Octavia had made a lifelong habit of ignoring that voice of reason, but it whispered in her ear regardless. What she was about to do would be an invasion of her brother’s and Clarke’s privacy and frankly a betrayal of trust. They had obviously gone to some lengths to keep their sex life from her, and this glimpse that she so desperately wanted into that aspect of their relationship would be disrespectiful to those efforts. She could still turn around, come back in half an hour, an hour, whatever. But even as these thoughts flicked through her mind she stepped further into the apartment, and let the door click softly behind her. Not bothering to take off her shoes or put down her backpack, she tiptoed over to the couch, just out of view from their bedroom. Sat down carefully. Undid the button of her jeans.

"Oh god, yes!" Clarke's cries echoed in her ears as Octavia sunk low on the cushions, one strap of her bag still hooked over her elbow, and snuck her hand down her pants. Her heart pounded with fear and arousal, a confusing and overwhelming mix of adrenaline. "Please, I need, I- Oh!"

Octavia had no idea what position they were in there, but it didn't matter. She closed her eyes as her fingers began teasing at her clit, picturing her brother fucking Clarke.

“That’s right. I’m here, I’ve got you, baby.”

Behind closed lids she saw Clarke's back to Bellamy's chest, as she straddled his lap and rode his dick. One hand braced against the headboard that beat out the rhythm of their fucking so distinctly, while the other clutched at Bellamy’s hand that rested possessivly on her baby bump, larger in her mind’s eye than in actuality.

Whatever mutual itch they were scratching, Octavia felt it too. Growing up poor meant her and Bellamy had shared practically everything, and this felt like no exception. The more she fed off their pleasure to build her own, the more entitled to it she felt.

Using her free hand Octavia reached up under her shirt to tease her breasts while she imagined her brother playing with Clarke’s. As she pinched and pulled at her hardened nipples, the fantasy began to take a mind of its own. Aided by the vividly real sounds of their fucking, it was all too easy to picture Bellamy Bellamy’s dick moving in and out of Clarke while the impact of each thrust drove them further and further into a frenzy. Her fingers picked up pace against her swollen clit as she imagined the way Clarke’s breasts must be bouncing, probably painfully, and thought about the way her own might look given the same treatment.

“So good, Bellamy, you fuck me so good.”

“Who fucks you so good? Who, baby?”

A hard thrust, punctuated by a gasp. Octavia’s mouth hung wide open in her effort to her breathing as silent and controlled as possible.

“You do, daddy.”

“That’s right.”

Octavia’s heart rate kicked up another notch as the heat building under her fingers became rapidly unbearably intense. The noises from the bedroom allowed her to picture a scene profoundly more erotically aggressive than what was probably happening, what with the absurd gentleness Bellamy treated her with since she got knocked up. Still, whatever was happening in there was a solid step above the boring shit she would have expected from them.

Her fingers worked hastily against her clit with no grace or tenderness. She had to be quick and quiet, entirely the opposite of what was happening mere feet from her.

She tried desperately to keep dead-silent but even her breathing sounded loud over the rushing of blood in her ears. She was panting now through her open mouth.

“Love you so much. My baby girl.”

Octavia bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut as her brother's words sent a jolt through her. Suddenly it wasn't blonde, wavy hair she pictured Bellamy nosing off a sweaty neck so he could lick and suck his way down to a shoulder. It was dark and straight. Her hair.

Her fingers slipped and slid desperately as new waves of arousal soaked her panties. She could hear the squelching noises she was making but could no longer bring herself to care. Her body was obviously ignorant of shame and so would her mind be. Besides, they were making so much noise in there anyway that a few extra heavy breaths, a few off-beat squelches, were hardly likely to be noticed.

Clarke’s cries escalated in pitch and volume, giving satisfying voice to the ones suppressed in Octavia’s lungs. She felt like a woman possessed in every sense. Possessed by how fucking turned on she was and her desperate need for climatic release. Possessed by her brother in the fantasy in her mind, whose hands she imagined running over her sweat-slicked body as he praised and claimed her in the same breath. Possessed by the fantasy itself in an experience more all-consuming than she had ever known while masturbating before.

So perfectly was the imagine formed in her mind that it almost killed her when that little voice at the back of her head reminded her that it wasn’t real. Even as she climbed closer and closer to oblivion some self-resenting voice whispered that she was an intruder, a sexual leach, stealing pleasure that wasn’t hers to take.

But as quickly as they snuck unwelcomed into her mind, any thoughts of the wrongness, the profound indecency of her actions vanished from her mind as she honed in on the sounds of Bellamy and Clarke’s sex.

"That's my girl. So good for me. Come on, baby, let go for me." The pace was so quick that Octavia’s nails accidentally scraped and slid against her clit in her effort to keep up, to match her physical experience to the fantasy fueled by the obscene sounds coming from the bedroom. The pain of her own roughness with herself only added fuel to the fire that coursed through her veins. The forbidden desires that she’d denied herself of for so long now ran rampant in the front of her mind so vividly that Octavia almost felt like she was hallucinating. Bellamy’s hands caressed her body reverently while his hips thrust into her violently, like he was just as desperate to see her full of him as she was desperate to be filled by him. Her throat felt agonizingly clogged with the screams she wanted to voice, wanted to yell-

“Oh god, yes! I’m yours, daddy, I’m-”

The sharp cry that pierced through Octavia’s ears made her assume that Clarke must have come. The tempo of the slap of skin against sweat-slicked skin slowed down and so did her fingers.

A few gentle thrusts and barely discernible whispered praises later and Clarke apparently found her voice again. Breathy and erotically seductive like she didn’t already have Bellamy’s dick deep in her, like his baby wasn’t already growing in her womb.

“Come on, Bellamy, fuck me like you want to. Fuck me like you’re gonna put another baby in me. Fuck me like I’m yours.” As quickly as they’d slowed, the thrusts increased their tempo again.

And the vision in Octavia’s mind picked up right where it left off. Wrong in so many ways but so outrageously satisfying to her taboo desires that nothing else mattered. A deep-rooted loneliness underscored Octavia’s life and Bellamy had always been the only one able to sooth it, maybe the only one who understood her enough to try. And from his love, and devotion, and downright possessive protectiveness were born her illicit and deeply secret wants.

Gasps and erotically strained moans once again carried her into visions of herself, frenzied, using her hardened muscles to lift off Bellamy’s dick only to slam herself back down as he grunted and panted behind her, encouraged her on, praised her. Guided her with his hands and hips and every part of himself. He communicated just as eloquently how much he wanted her without words as he did with them.

So close, Octavia was so fucking close she felt driven mad, could feel every torturous ounce of her compressed pleasure under her finger tips just waiting to explode, waiting for something to trigger-

“Come in my pussy, daddy. Your pussy.”

“Oh fuck, baby, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna-”

Octavia gasped and jerked as she came, throwing her head back against the couch. Pleasure rolled over her, tingling and shiny. Her pussy clenched repeatedly and she felt her toes curl inside her shoes. This was far from her first time masturbating, but it was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before.

An unexpected memory floated to the top of her mind as she basked in the irradiating pleasure. Her friend, Monroe, who’d spent a week of summer vacation in France had told her about a saying they had. “La petite mort.” They’d snickered about it at lunch, and she’d thought at the time that it wasn’t apt at all. Orgasms made her feel alive, it was the ultimate thrill, a rush. But as her pussy clenched sporadically with aftershocks and her fingers lay still, soaked and slippery in her wetness, she changed her mind. This had been a small death, she thought, as she lay there slouched against the couch cushions, loose-limbed and entirely at peace.

Distracted by her own wandering thoughts as she basked in the warm, satiated pleasure of her afterglow, Octavia almost forgot that she was very much not supposed to be at home until she heard the creak of the floor that meant someone was stepping off the bed.

  
"Stay there, sweetheart." The sound of a kiss, and the squeak of the mattress alerted Octavia to the fact that Bellamy was extracting himself from the bed. "I'll be right back."

A sharp bold of fear shot through Octavia’s heart like lightning and she sunk impossibly lower on the couch until her neck was almost touching the seat cushions and her ass hung off the front awkwardly. She held her breath, waiting, with little more she could do to hide. If Bellamy was just walking across the hall to the bathroom, she was safe. But if he was going to the kitchen, he would almost certainly catch her.

A quiet sigh of relief escaped her lips as she heard the bathroom faucet turn on. It was now or never. Not bothering to do up her pants, lest even the sound of the zipper give her away, Octavia darted up and to the door. Stars danced across her eyes from how tightly she squeezed them shut as she turned the handle, hoping that the running water was enough to mask the small noise of the door. Out she slipped. The door clicked behind her. And she was in homefree.

Her heart raced faster than it did when she ran miles in the morning, and her eyes felt wider than flying saucers. She’d really done it. Gotten away with it. It was a high beyond belief, a rush almost comparable to that of her orgasm just moments before.

Octavia sped to the end of the hall and slid down to the floor against the wall. A somewhat astonished laugh bubbled up from her and she marveled at the elated feeling of having escaped punishment for having done something very, very wrong.

  
She almost giggled as she did up her jeans and tidied herself up before rising from the floor. This would be her secret to harbour for her whole life, but it didn’t feel heavy. In the moment, all she could feel was self-satisfied. Calmness settled over her as she made her way back towards the apartment door. Threw it open aggressively, and called out loudly-

"Hey guys, I'm back! Indra cancelled class!"


End file.
